


Embers and Ashes

by QueenieWithABeenie



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, OCs - Freeform, Other, Pre-RWBY, There be Gays here, some cannon divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 13:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenieWithABeenie/pseuds/QueenieWithABeenie
Summary: Tales of the Innocents of Remnant and the Victims of the Great Failings





	1. Preface

I’ll...keep this brief;

I trust you know who I am, but for those of you who do not, allow me to introduce myself. I am Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy in Vale. It is a pleasure to be speaking with you this evening, and I trust that I can make the most of your time and our conversations.

Now, as you are well aware, it is always the most famous events and most...how shall I put this? The most _exciting_ stories that are told and broadcast to the general public. An unfortunate side effect of modern media is that attention is easily drawn away from the mundane aspects of normalcy, and by extension, the hardships born by the average citizen. As a citizen myself, and witness to some of history’s greatest failings, I feel it is my duty to bring to light some of Remnant’s everyday heroes, its battles that are fought not in war, but in its wake, at home, and among family. These tales are equally as important as those of the huntsmen and huntresses we all know and love, and deserve their own recognition. Not everyone needs a fancy weapon or a lifetime of combat training to be a hero. In fact, I firmly believe that it is in humility, small acts of love and kindness, that keep the most evil at bay. It is stories such as those that give _me_ the courage to continue fighting, to whatever end may be.

Now, before I give it all away in a grand speech, allow me to begin the adventures of the small folk of Remnant with a tale that holds a very dear place in my heart....


	2. The Weaponsmith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title; The History of Wilt and Blush

_Q: All students of Remnant’s combat schools design their own weapons, correct?_

_A: Yes, indeed._

_Q: All students must therefore build them, correct?_

_A: Mmm, no. Not quite._

_Q: And can you elaborate on that, Professor?_

_A: Why, it would be my pleasure…_

_Along the northern reaches of Vale, near the coast where, on a clear day one can almost see Mantle, there is a small city with its own system of government in place and quite outside the reach of any kingdom. This was the first successful attempt to establish any sort of settlement outside of a kingdom, free to govern and protect itself. Unfortunately, any other attempts to create such settlements have failed quite tragically. However, be it the surrounding mountains or the distinct presence of the White Fang, the city of Saiyo has flourished since the end of the Great War. Saiyo is a city of artisans and craftsmen, miners, merchants, and all of the good things that the world needs to thrive. Here, there is no allegiance to any one kingdom, faction, or organization, but rather to whoever is willing to trade fairly. As it stands, all of the combat schools and huntsman academies hold contracts with the engineers and blacksmiths, the architects, and the craftsmen, mostly for the sake of having a place where the designs of the students can be brought to life._

_Among these weaponsmiths is the Olivete Company, Remnant’s most renowned source of elite weaponry. For decades, the company was run by Addle Olivete, the grandson of the founder, Mathas Olivete. Now, Addle and his younger sister, Cya -whom I had the honour of marrying- ran the company smoothly, just the two of them, for decades. Admittedly, it was occasionally very difficult to manage such a long distance marriage when I was sent away on hunts, especially when our daughter, Miranda, was born. This leads into one of the dark secrets of Saiyo, however. For Cya did not survive the delivery, and as I was attempting to make the journey through the mountains, I fell victim to a Grimm ambush, and perished. Less than a year later, I was forced into the body of a certain Xavier Ozpin, the current headmaster of Beacon Academy. He was just twenty-one years old, and oddly accepting of the entire situation._

_Now, twenty years later, Miranda Olivete has all but taken control of her family’s company, and with her exceptional talents behind her, the business has flourished more than ever, even forming a solid agreement with the Schnee Dust Company in order to improve the company. Why, Miss Olivete even constructed the weapons belonging to most of my own students, and has done work on mine. And yet, all of this has been managed while still maintaining a position of great power within the White Fang. She is rather exceptional._

_An interesting note about the Olivete Company that I feel is fair to mention is that the family is predominantly comprised of Faunus. They are by far the most successful family of Faunus in Solitas. Perhaps even still stacked against those of Anima. Miranda herself possesses several very obvious traits, such as her mother’s scales and fangs._

_And yes, she is fully aware of the situation regarding myself, even if she took the news a bit hard at first._

_Now, perhaps it is just best to continue the story of Miranda Olivete, the Weaponsmith of Remnant, from the beginning…_

  
  


The heavy heels of Miranda Olivete’s boots claked against the stone floor as she moved about her worktable, putting the last coat of polish on the weapon laid out before her. Her uncle had been the one to build the magnificent scythe just before her birth, and she had since been the one to cater to its maintenance. It belonged to Qrow Branwen, Remnant’s most talented scythe wielded, to date. She had only met him in person three times, and most of the time, their communications were limited to digital media and mailing his weapon to and from Signal Academy. This was certainly one of those times, and Miranda certainly hoped that the airship that would be transporting the cargo would not meet any unfortunate ends.

The bell chimed over the door and cut into the electro swing that played softly in the background, giving a lighthearted atmosphere to the front of the shop. Not that Miranda noticed, as her world was plagued with perpetual silence. To gain her attention, customers were prompted to press a button on the front counter which would send a notification to her watch, which would buzz and light up. Miranda perked up and set the bottle of polish aside, stuffed the rag in the pocket of her apron, and turned on her heel. Her first customers of the morning were a red-haired man and a very short girl that Miranda assumed was his daughter or younger sister -yet she was barely able to see over the counter, so Miranda really wasn’t sure. She smiled and waved, boots clicking as she made her way to the front and managed to eek out a scratchy “hello”. Some years earlier, her uncle had taught her how to read lips, and the kind headmaster of Beacon had taught her to speak, relying on the vibrations in her throat to “feel” the words.

Interestingly enough, the odd pair seemed to riddle out her speech patterns and the man began signing, a rare, but welcomed gesture. He was young, perhaps not much older than she was, and introduced himself as Roman, and in desperate need of an upgrade in weaponry. He produced several old-fashioned paper schematics from his side bag and laid them out on the counter for her to review. Miranda flicked her glasses down from where they rested on the top of her head and clicked the red pen she kept behind her ear. She analyzed the nameless weapon being described, the list of proposed functions, and a rough colour scheme.

Miranda tapped her pen on the counter to get his attention before signing, “A cane?”

Roman nodded. “Classy, inconspicuous; what else could a man ask for?” Clearly his companion understood his signs, reacting only with a deflated glower before sliding another roll of papers across the counter to her. Miranda eyed these cautiously before the ginger man could explain that his companion also required a weapon. With business being slow in the early autumn, Miranda hastily agreed to the job and asked them to check back in two weeks time. By then, she would have functional prototypes of each weapon ready for testing. With a tip of his hat and a bright grin, Roman and his small companion bid her a good day and left the shop and a smiling weaponsmith behind the counter to gather the drawings. If they had each designed their own, Miranda had to give them credit for their ingenuity and creativity. Defensive and offensive, inconspicuous and charming, and functional as normal clothing accessories. A cane and a parasol, each as lethal as they were fashionable. The thought involved in even coming up with the idea sparked a strange sense of pride in her heart. Thrilled with the new tasks at hand, Miranda hurried to finish polishing and shipping out the scythe of Qrow Branwen and set to work on the young pair’s classy accessories.

Two weeks passed and every day of that time had been spent on the pair of orders. She loved the way the cane felt to hold and how smoothly the blade could be drawn from the handle of the parasol. Hopefully, her customers would be just as satisfied as she was with the work. True to their word, the pair arrived at the shop not three minutes after opening, this time arm-in-arm and successfully dispelling any theories Miranda had previously had regarding their relation being that of a father and daughter or a brother and sister. Roman once again tipped his hat in greeting and was the one to strike up friendly conversation. His companion -who called herself Neo- found it in her to join in, expressing her excitement to test the work of the famed Olivete Company. Grinning, Miranda set two long cardboard boxes on the counter and pulled back the white tissue paper, revealing the black cane and parasol that they had requested. Roman was the first to try out his new weapon, spinning it in hand several times before holding it up as if to fire the Dust gun Miranda had carefully placed inside. True to predictions, the sights popped up upon a light tug on the trigger hidden within the handle. Taking it from him, Miranda pointed to a slot on the pole and explained that it was the chamber to reload crystals. She then handed the parasol to Neo, who excitedly pulled the rapier from the handle and twirled it in the air threateningly.

“Try them together,” Miranda signed to them. “Shoot at the parasol when it’s open.”

The pair did as instructed, and the blank she had loaded into the cane was successfully blocked by the parasol. A mischievous grin spread across Neo’s face as she turned the elegant weapon in her tiny hands. Roman thanked her for the impressive work and asked when they’d be completed and how much they owed. Miranda ran the numbers in her head, assuming roughly a month of labour fees and other miscellaneous charges that had popped up, as well as the fees for the ultra customization they’d ordered.

“Nine-hundred for both,” she concluded, adding that they’d be ready for pickup within another week. The extra time, she explained, was simply for the customization and finishing touches. Roman made note of the price and pickup date on his scroll before once again saying farewell to the smith, who wondered what his voice sounded like. They looked to be from Atlas, but so few of her orders were Atlesean that she doubted that assumption.

It was nearing closing time when Miranda's bracelet vibrated again, alerting her to the entrance of another customer. For once, it had turned out to be a busy day, but as the evening drew near, things had slowed down, something that her aching vocal cords were thankful for.

Again, Miranda turned from what she was doing -rearranging her display of the inner workings of most standard shotguns- and saw the back of the man who had walked to the counter. She squeaked out a weak “coming!” and dusted her hands off on her messy apron. The man sported wild, blood red hair and simple clothes streaked in dirt and from what she could tell, a bit of blood on the heavy khaki cargo pants. And he was tall, not much more than Miranda herself, but tall enough that she would have a difficult time reading his lips. She waved once he turned to her, and she made a tiny “one second” gesture before scurrying behind the counter.

“What can-“ Miranda cleared her throat and placed two fingers over her voice box, just to make sure she didn’t falter, “-I help you with?”

The man, upon closer inspection, was absolutely no older than she was, and for as strong as he seemed, his face still held an undeniable youth and innocence. “I heard that this was the best place to go for any kind of weapons, custom or otherwise?”

Miranda nodded enthusiastically, her ego taking a boost from the praise to her family name. “How can I help you?”

The red-headed Faunus -she’d seen the horns protruding from his unruly hair almost instantly- shrugged and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, I’m not exactly what you’d call a star student at any academy, but I’m looking to start training so I can maybe join up with the White Fang?”

Miranda thought for a moment. “Do you have a weapon in mind?” She inquired, leaning against the display case beside her.

“Not real-“ His eyes narrowed (she just now noticed the awful scars that adorned his admittedly adorable face). “You’re deaf, aren’t you?”

The smith’s face contorted in a bizarre mix of insult and bewilderment. He seemed to bear no ill will, it was an honest and innocent inquiry, but still, Miranda’s nod was hesitant.

Without missing a beat, the boy signed to her. “I had a friend who was deaf. I assume this is easier?”

“Very,” Miranda’s hands flicked through each sign almost effortlessly, “thank you. So, about this weapon? Would you like to test a few different ones before you start on your own design?”

“If that’s an option, sure?”

Miranda nodded before glancing over his shoulder at the wall clock. “We close in ten. I can take you to the test range after that, if you’re willing to stay around here for that long.”

“What’s your name?”

Miranda pressed her lips into a thin line before she pressed the tips on her fangs to her lower lip lightly. “You first.”

“Adam.”

“Miranda.”

Adam smiled kindly. “It’s a pleasure to meet the most famous weaponsmith on Remnant.”

Miranda rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the little smile that pulled at the corner of her mouth. The boy had undoubtedly been a mine worker for the better portion of his life, judging by his dusty and tired appearance. The scar -a violent brand- was evidence that he had likely attempted to escape before, and failed quite miserably. Miranda felt a pang of pity for the boy; in Saiyo, Fanus were treated exactly the same as the humans, and there was no sense of divide between the two. Why, she herself was only half. There really was no thought of discrimination against any population that could be considered minorities in the kingdoms, it was just how life was. The generally accepting and peaceful nature of Saiyo was one of the largest reasons why they were rarely bothered by Grimm.

Eight minutes.

“It’s good to know that my family has been able to uphold such a valuable part of society for so long without fail,” Miranda signed, trying not to be lazy. She wasn’t sure how fluent this Adam truly was in the language, and she wasn’t keen on the idea of testing any new theories with any of her customers, no matter how friendly they seemed to be.

She assumed by the way his shoulders shook that Adam had laughed a bit, or at the very least, found her lackluster reply amusing. “How long have you been working here, as a smith?”

Six minutes.

“Ten, twelve years maybe?” Miranda honestly couldn’t remember when her uncle had started letting her help build the weapons, and not just sit on the countertop and practice wrapping tsuka itos as he worked. “‘Most of my life. But it’s just me most of the time now.”

Adam’s eyes widened. The one without the scars was a truly brilliant blue, and Miranda was inclined to liken them to the sky during the summer rainy season.

“I’m impressed.”

Four minutes.

“I do my best.”

“Clearly.” Adam made a curious sweeping gesture to the rest of the displays. “I assume this is all your work?”

Miranda puffed out her cheeks before letting the air out in a hiss. “Everything except the back wall. Those are antiques.”

The boy looked behind her to the wall in question, trying to analyze all of the weaponry that it boasted. Among the sea of guns and scythes and swords was a more ancient-looking weapon, adorned with woven ribbons and a blade elegantly engraved with images of the Twin Gods in dragon form. Adam pointed to it.

“What’s that one?”

Miranda followed his line of sight and a small smile played at the corner of her mouth. “It belonged to my great grandmother. It’s called a chokūto, I think.”

“It’s beautiful.”

The weaponsmith nodded. Two minutes. “My great-grandfather made it for her as a wedding gift. She fought with it until the very end.”

Adam was instantly intrigued by the story. He’d heard stories of how spouses-to-be tended to dote on each other, especially when proposing or when they were just married. The gifts were things like gems and fine clothing, but a weapon crafted by one’s own self with such immaculate attention to detail? That was a heartwarming tale.

“What was its name?”

Miranda had grown up hearing the stories of her grandmother’s adventures and didn’t miss a beat in her reply. “Wilt.”

“Interesting.”

One minute.

“I have a similar stock blade, if you want to test it out.” Miranda was fluent with a good portion of the weaponry she built and sold, so as to be able to easily diagnose any issues a client may encounter down the road. It also put her at an advantage, should she ever be forced to fight -any weapon would be of use to her, and relying on one and one alone was a bit like relying on a crutch to walk. Take it away, and one becomes incapasitated.

Adam hesitated for a moment, pondering her offer before nodding.

Closing time.

Miranda flicked a switch under the main counter and the windows tinted dark and the digital sign switched its lettering to read “closed”. She sighed deeply, shoulders moving up and down rather dramatically. “Ready to get started?”

The horned fanus boy nodded eagerly. Miranda wasn’t sure whether or not he was getting annoyed by her deafness, but the way he seemed to want to open his mouth to speak before remembering to sign told her enough. Roman and Neo had signed flawlessly and without hesitation, making her wonder if the short girl was just as deaf as Miranda, or if she was perhaps mute and no other choice. Either way, it would explain why neither one seemed to falter when speaking with her, versus Adam, who had to consciously recall to sign to her, and even then, stumbled over several signs and took a few moments before responding.

No, Miranda decided as she lead him to the back of the shop, Adam was not fluent enough in sign language to efficiently communicate with her.

“Don’t worry about ssignss,” she ordered, slipping a pair of sturdy gloves on, “just make ssure you’re looking at me and have my attention when you sspeak.”

Adam looked skeptical, but whether it was in regards to her request or the gloves and long black blade she held out to him.

“You sstumble too much, I can read lipss.” She was never really that aware of how harshly she slurred her “s”s until she saw his amused stare. “Ssnake faunuss.”

Adam gave an innocent shrug. “I said nothing.”

Miranda resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him, instead only glaring and turing the silver chokūto threateningly. She pointed at the mirror that lined the wall to their left and told him to stand next to her in front of it. “Hold it in your left hand.” Miranda sheathed her chokūto and adjusted his hold on the weapon. Novice skill-level aside, he just looked awkward. She shook her head and placed the tsuka in his right hand. “Try thiss.” Miranda fixed his hold again, satisfied by how easily he seemed to grip it.

“Let me sshow you the bassicss?” Miranda watched him in the mirror rather than struggling to read his lips. He was only a few inches taller than she, but it was enough to be annoying.

Adam nodded and sucked in a deep breath. “Just go slow? I’ll do my best.”

After scooting his feet around so that he stood properly, Miranda stood several feet away and demonstrated the five most basic offensive and defensive stances that would be taught for any melee weapon. Much to her surprise, Adam caught on very quickly. Within less than half an hour, she suggested a short sparring match with _just the basics_ . Miranda was insistent on the last part, as the last thing she wanted was for someone to step wrong and for it all to result in a lawsuit. Adam reluctantly agreed, and stood how she told him to. According to the smith, he was supposed to defend _only_ and based on the number she called. Each number was representative of one of the positions, and she would respond with the corresponding attack. As with the initial instruction, the match went incredibly well. So well, in fact, that Miranda began to teach him a bit of simple footwork so that he could retreat and advance as needed to defend himself. It was only when he slipped and attacked _her_ that they switched roles.

By the time an hour and a half had passed, Miranda found herself not only very proud of her client, but almost growing fond of him and the little remarks he tried desperately to hide from her. Their matches quickly spiraled into a mix of attacks and defensive strategies from both parties. However, Adam was still an inexperienced fighter, and made the mistake of sacrificing his footing and balance for what may have been a killing stroke. Miranda caught his mistake and dropped to the floor, swiping his legs out from under his body in one swift motion. Adam’s back hit the floor with an earthquake-inducing thud, and the sword clattered across the room. Grinning wickedly, Miranda held the point of her own weapon to his throat.

“You did well.”

She assumed Adam laughed weakly before dropping his head back on the floor before signing “I surrender”.

Miranda sheathed her sword and leaned over him, holding out her hand. He accepted it, allowing her to help him to his feet. She wondered how long it had been since he had smiled in the way that he was then; pure, genuine, and entirely innocent. If she was right about his time in dust mines, she assumed it had been quite a long time, and the same pang of pity stuck her heart.

Adam was certainly persistent, if nothing else, Miranda concluded when he decided to stand exactly a single breath away from her, even when she was attempting to lock up the store. He’d already asked if she could continue working with him to hone his skills over the next several weeks, to which Miranda promptly stated that she would be thrilled to take on a student for as long as necessary, and held her ground on the topic of not requiring any kind of payment when he brought it up. Just the honour of being his instructor and having a bit of company was enough, she argued.

The weaponsmith had quite the difficult time bidding him goodnight, finding that she was nearly halfway home before he finally seemed willing to end their conversation about Saiyo’s history. Miranda certainly wasn’t annoyed, but she _was_ tired, and was rather sick of socialization after such a rushed day. She just wanted to go home and fall face first into her bed and stay there for a year.

And that was precisely what she did. It was not five minutes that she was inside her home before Miranda had changed into soft pajamas and curled into a little ball under her blankets. As expected, it was not long before she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

True to schedule, Roman showed up with his partner in tow exactly one week later to pick up and pay for their weapons, which were -as promised- perfectly combat ready. Roman had settled on the title “Melodic Cudgel” for his cane. Neo said that she was still deciding. The trio chatted for nearly half an hour about the upcoming Vytal festival, how it was being hosted in Mistral that year, and how they were all hoping to be able to attend the fights that year. Neo in particular seemed to be a rather avid fan of the students from Haven.

“How many of the weapons this year do you think you’ve made?” Roman inquired, suddenly recalling that Miranda likely held contracts with numerous combat schools -which she did.

The smith had to think for a moment before tossing out an assumption that she had probably at least _seen_ about ninety-percent of the students’ weaponry, and had probably built over half.

Roman was halfway through expressing his praise of her work and dedication when his tiny companion tugged on his sleeve and tapped her watch. With a sudden look of recollection, the ginger man nodded and tipped his hat. “My thanks to the Olivete Company and their skill, but I am afraid we have a prior engagement,” he admitted. “Perhaps we’ll see each other at the festival!”

Miranda nodded with a polite smile, indeed hoping that she’d come across the pair again in the future. She was rather fond of their style and charm.

With the charming young couple gone and the store empty of customers, Miranda leaned against the display case next to the register and checked her schedule for the day. Roman and Neo had already picked up their orders, check. Her “father” was due for his usual visit over what was Beacon Academy’s autumn break, and would be in later that week…

And Adam would likely show up within the next few hours for his “class”.

She sighed and leaned against the case, resting her head on her folded arms. She was already exhausted just from existing, and to top it all off, there were six orders in the repair shop, awaiting her attention. Maybe if she just called off sick and asked her uncle to-

_Bzzzzzzzz_

Miranda picked her head up and attempted to plaster a welcoming smile on her face. It was certainly going to be a long-

“Adam?”

The red-headed boy smiled sheepishly. “I know I’m early, but I think I may have a vague idea for a weapon, if you’re willing to hear me out?”

The weaponsmith perked up and nodded. “Did you draw it on paper or iss it digital?”

Adam hesitated for a moment before holding a sketchbook out to her. “The pages are marked.”

Miranda opened the old leather book to the aforementioned pages and her yellow eyes widened at the detailed sketches of an elegant chokūto and scabbard. The inner edges of the pages were littered with doodles of roses and lilies, some scribbled out, others so detailed that Miranda could have sworn that they were just photographs. She stared at the pages in awe, but found a certain amusement in the sharp contrast in the beautiful drawings and his absolutely atrocious handwriting. A hesitant tap on the shoulder brought her attention back to the designer.

“Can you do anything with those?”

Miranda flicked a stray lock of green hair out of her face and grinned, flashing her fangs. “These,” she waved her hands nonsensically between signs, trying to figure out how to describe what she wanted to say. Instead of trying to form words with her hands, Miranda’s wicked grin returned and she hugged the book to her chest, nodding vigorously. Adam’s face morphed into amused confusion.

“Is that a good thing?”

Another nod and Miranda snatched his hand, silently asking him to follow her. After a moment without moving, the smith sighed and set the book down and released his hand. “Sorry.”

Adam shook his head. “It’s fine.”

Miranda bit her lower lip until she tasted blood in her mouth, fully aware that she was blushing madly. She knew far better than to act so rashly around _any_ of her customers. _Any_. Not even the kind, lost Faunus boy that had sought her help so earnestly. “We...should discuss this more. Professionally.” She signed slowly, carefully.

The customer in question nodded in understanding. Already he itched to dig back into his book and continue working on the drawings. Adam liked the way the chokūto that he used during his lessons felt to hold, but the handle -the _tsuka_ \- felt under his fingers. The texture of the _ito_ was too coarse. Rough, awkward. And the scabbard that Miranda told him to wear… it was equally as awkward and served only as a way to store the chokūto when he wasn’t using it. Adam liked functionality; if an item didn’t serve a strong purpose, why have it? Already, more ideas were turning in his head.

“Did you have a time in mind, or is there a certain procedure you follow for new customers?” Adam schooled his face into a neutral expression as he signed.

He liked the way she blushed. It was sort of cute, and quite interesting to witness, considering the fact that she was covered in scales rather than skin.

Miranda shrugged, scooting the book back to him. “There’s a coffee shop downtown. We could meet there later in the week. I close early on Fridays, if that works.”

Adam thought for a moment before nodding. It wasn’t like he was busy. He’d managed to get a part time day job in Saiyo, but it wasn’t much, and it was _painfully_ boring. As it stood, his time with Miranda and willingly getting his ass kicked was the highly of his day. “Sure. Just tell me where and when.”

The Shattering Moon was a small, eclectic little coffee shop and bookstore along Saiyo’s Main Street, usually visited by students who needed a calm place study, groups of knitting and crottetting elderly ladies, and business partners looking for neutral meeting grounds. The second one walked in and took a deep breath, they would be hit square in the face with the luscious scent of a thousand coffee blends, chocolate varieties, and a myriad of other sweet treats. Every breath after was the same; caffeine and sugar of the most delicious kind. It was no small wonder that the darkly-named establishment was so popular. It was homey, relaxing, and had a certain tranquil energy about it that most found irresistible and addicting.

With all the people and the general aesthetic of the coffee house, Miranda assumed there was a lot of chatter and noise, and was almost certain that it would be the kind of place to play some kind of jazz or swing music. She wished she could indulge in that part of the world for just a single day.

Hearing... She could see and feel the beauty of the world around her, but there was so much that she was missing. The sound of the birds that flew overhead, the crashing of the waves against the coastlines, the peaceful silence of snow falling, the rustling of wind through the trees... Her new student’s voice. Miranda was almost sure that it would be deep and heavy, like the syrup she drenched her waffles in. But part of her second guessed that assumption. Adam was young, innocent, and likely very traumatized. For all she knew, his voice was quiet and airy, like a feather falling to the ground. Hopefully one day she'd be able to find a doctor in Atlas that was willing to work with a Faunus to create some sort of implant that would allow her access to the rest of the world, to hear for the first time what the world sounded like. She was sure her father had a calm, gentle voice. His signing pattern and expressions suggested as much. Her uncle, Miranda assumed, was loud and rumbling. He made grand gestures while speaking, and was very dramatic when he laughed. Roman seemed to have a charming and charismatic voice, like the ones described in the romance books that she read from time to time. He was very carefree in his gestures, and a relaxed signer. Of course he would have a charming voice. How could he not? Me. Branwen was another man whom she assumed had a very laid back voice. He carried himself very easily and relaxed, but in a perpetually exhausted way, like he’d been in desperate need of a nap for decades.

Miranda had just brought her mug to her lips when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Looking up, she forced the pensive scowl off her face, replacing it with a welcoming smile. She motioned to the seat across from her, and Adam followed her direction before scooting the book to her.

“Time to get down to business?”

Miranda nodded and took a proper sip of her mocha before she set the mug aside and pulled a pen and pad of tracing paper from her satchel. “I ssaw the namess you were trying out,” she clicked the pen against the wooden table and flipped open the sketchbook, “have you ssettled on one?”

Adam watched her scaled hands flip through the pages of his book in search of his future weapon. Once she found the pages and looked up, he spoke. “No. Nothing I try seems to fit. I assume this is a delicate process?”

The smith nodded. “Mosst trained sstudentss take monthss to choose.” She watched Adam’s expressions carefully, a skill she’d developed over most of her life that came in handy most days. The boy’s face was set deep in thought for several minutes, during which Miranda set about creating copies of the sketches for her own later use. When she looked up again, the slightest ghost of a smile passed over Adam’s face like a mask. And with the way he sat, mouth partially covered by his laced hands, he looked incredibly shy.

“Now iss the time to sshare thoughtss,” Miranda reminded him.

A nod was her only reply, and she went back to creating holographic models of his sketches. After the model of the chokūto was done several minutes later, she reached across the table and poked his arm.

“Take a look at thiss,” she said, pointing at the model. “What do you think?”

The other Faunus flicked the model around, focusing most of his attention on the _tsuka_. “Can we get rid of the wrappings? I don’t like them very much. They’re...distracting.”

Miranda pulled the model back to her side of the table and created a few options for her client to choose from before giving it back. Adam toyed with each new rendition of the model, trying to imagine what it would feel like to hold, to fight with. Sure, his skill was progressing, even after just a week, but he was painfully aware that he was perpetually leagues behind that of his mentor.

“This one.” Adam flicked to the second option Miranda had given him. “It’s smooth, but still has some grip.”

The smith nodded, taking the hologram back and making note for later. Miranda then pulled up the models of the scabbard and showed the inner workings and little parts. There was a spark of pride in her as she picked apart the way Adam had worked in a dust-charge gun. It reminded her a little bit of Roman’s design. Miranda had to wonder; did every perspective huntsman or combatant live by the motto “and it’s also a gun”?

“I was thinking that there could be a sort of hammer spring here,” Adam pointed to the lower end of the scabbard and attempted to poke it with Miranda’s pen. “So when I pull the first trigger -it can be a dual action, right?”

Miranda nodded, and Adam continued.

“Okay, so the first trigger can set off a reaction that fires the sword instead of dust?”

The smith toyed with the possibility, running the numbers in her head. It was possible, sure. She had built far crazier. Miranda nodded. “Sure.”

“So then the secondary trigger is what connects to the actual gun..part?” Adam, she assumed from his expression, was hesitant to voice his requests. “Sorry, I’m not really that good with guns.”

Miranda shrugged. “Don’t worry. I can handle technicalitiess.”

  


“You know,” Miranda only pushed Adam’s wrist enough to keep him down, but not enough to hurt him...much. “if you just remembered your footing, then you wouldn’t be in thiss ssituation.”

Adam pouted up at her.

“Repeatedly.”

The pout quickly shifted into a cocky grin and Adam managed to shove his teacher aside. He held the brand new draft of his chokūto to Miranda’s throat and leaned over her so that their bodies were almost parallel. “Having fun yet, teach?”

Miranda stuck her forked tongue out at him with a hiss and twisted under him, successfully starting the fight right back up. She dodged several weak shots at her head, slipping between his legs and up behind him. The hilt of her katana found the base of Adam’s neck and he stumbled forward, and miraculously, he caught his balance, pivoting to strike again. He was quick, Miranda had to admit, but she was more agile, and slid from his grasp every time. If she was right, this particular match had been going on for nearly fifteen minutes with no sign of either party gaining the upper hand. Miranda had since moved on to teaching Adam more and more advanced steps and techniques, and he was progressing at an alarming rate.

But, as Adam would readily admit, his instructor was still _by far_ his superior.

“Do you _ever_ give up?” Miranda hissed, holding off another attack. The only advantage Adam had over her was his strength. An unknown number of years in dust mines had given him a physic that trumped her nimble body. Of course she was strong, but not always enough to overpower a man.

Adam’s cocky little smile (which was quickly becoming his trademark, Miranda noted) persisted, and he shook his head. “Not when the best weaponsmith on Remnant tells me not to.”

Miranda matched his grin and shoved against him, swinging around and landing a sharp kick to his shoulder and then his jaw. Adam stumbled backwards again, holding the side of his face. The smith bounced on the balls of her feet for a few seconds as he regained his stance and readied another attack. Without his scabbard, Adam was forced to maintain combat blade-to-blade only. Miranda liked that aspect of his training, but it would only last a little while longer before she made things a bit more difficult for him.

Again Adam swung at her and Miranda dropped to her knees, avoiding the strike entirely and kicking his legs harshly. When he stumbled, Miranda shoved her entire weight against him and knocked him the rest of the way over. The chokūto flew out of his hands and he gasped for breath, yet again flat on his back with Miranda pinning him to the floor, katana blade driven into the floor inches from the side of his head.

“Okay...okay…” Adam relaxed under her, accepting defeat. “Were you expecting another student?”

Miranda’s head shot up and blushed like mad when she saw her father’s dumbfounded, and yet extremely knowing expression. She shot up like a bullet, sheathing her katana and bowing politely. By the time she straightened her posture, Adam was on his feet. As he dusted off his shirt, Miranda signed so quickly that he could scarcely understand what she was trying to say.

By the time he caught the sign for “father”, Miranda was already hugging the man, and Adam put two-and-two together. While they bore little resemblance aside from their height and face shape, it was clear that they were family. The man she called Father was slower in his signing, and Adam noted that he was being persistent about inquiring after her health, whether or not she was still enjoying her work, and thoroughly interrogating her about the compromising situation he’d discovered them in. Adam felt rather inclined to explain the situation himself, but a quick glance at Miranda’s flying hands told him enough. Miranda had written him off as an “exceptional student and client”. Evidently, she was thrilled to have someone of “equal prowess” to train. The poor Faunus was so busy trying to focus on her hands that he didn’t realize until the very last second that Miranda’s father had extended his hand in greeting. It was almost reflex at that point for Adam to start signing instead of speaking, but he caught himself just in the nick of time.

“Adam Taurus, sir.” He introduced himself simply, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The silver-haired man (just how old was her father?) had a kind smile and shook his hand firmly. “Likewise, Mr. Taurus. My name is Xavier Ozpin.”

Adam stared, slightly dumbstruck, at him. He was- “The Headmaster of Beacon Academy?”

Professor Ozpin gave a small laugh. “Precisely.”

Miranda tapped her father’s shoulder to gain his attention before she cut into the conversation and all but drug Adam back to the workshop. “Minor adjustments”, she reasoned. She had likely noticed several flaws in her own work and was determined to fix them. Adam liked that spark of determination in people, the will to spot a problem and instantly come up with and carry out six solutions and twice as many backups.

_If only more people had that kind of willpower…_

That was the most alluring aspect of joining the White Fang. It was an organization that was driven, that was determined to make progress and be a catalyst for change. And Adam _desperately_ wanted to be a part of that. He’d spent too many nights over too many years looking up at the night sky, pondering his place in vast abyss of the universe to just sit back and let the chips fall where they may. In the grand scheme of time and space, he was impossibly insignificant. _Remnant_ was impossibly insignificant. But _on Remnant_ , he could make a stand for what he believed in and fight for the rights of his people. He could be _significant._ Powerful, even. Miranda could be his springboard into that power. If she could train him, help him be stronger, then he could fight his way to the top, if he needed to. The snake could be _his_ catalyst, the one to teach him how to talk his way into and out of things, to truly give him the tools he needed to make change for his - _their_ \- kind.

He wasn’t particularly fond of humans, not in any respect, and now knowing that his teacher, his _mentor_ was half human, there was only a slight bit of tension that was sure to arise between them. Maybe it would give him the nudge he needed to be more aggressive in their matches. If Adam could look past the scales, could he see his mentor as human and channel his anger into the fight?

It was certainly a possibility, and an exceptionally motivating one, at that.

For the first time in nearly a month, Adam wasn’t paying attention when Miranda tried to sign to him, explaining the changes she was making to the chokūto’s _tsuka_. Rather, he was glaring at the floor as if it had personally victimized him.

Miranda’s elbow being stuffed into his ribcage was enough to get his attention, however, and he turned to face her. She was holding the chokūto out to him again, hoping he would take it and tell her how it felt to hold now that she’d changed it again. He did, and was glad to report that he liked this modification the best. Miranda nodded in satisfaction and offered him the temporary scabbard to store the blade in. She told him that the final blade would be ready soon, and that she had added something special to the alloy, just for him.

When asked to elaborate, all Miranda did was smile slyly, just like the snake she was.

She bid Adam goodnight after that, and turned to her father.

“You wrote nothing of having a boyfriend in your last letter,” Ozpin signed casually, a single brow raised in question. “Tell me about him.”

Miranda flushed a deep red. “He’s just a student. That’s all.” She leaned back against her worktable, face twisted in a strange pout. “Adam came in a few weeks ago, looking for advice on learning to fight and defend himself. Said something about wanting to join the White Fang. I took him on as a student and built his weapon.”

Seeming to believe her explanation, the professor dropped the subject. “And I presume that under your guidance, he’s progressing well?”

“As always,” Miranda signed proudly. “How’s Beacon? Did the Autumn dance go well last week? Who managed the decorations?”

“An invitation was once again extended to you,” Oz shrugged, “you know you’re perfectly welcome to come if you wish. But yes, it did go well. And it was actually a self-made team comprised of students from each of the academies, and one from each year. They called themselves Team DUST. They did a wonderful job of combining elements from each kingdom into the decorations.”

“Maybe next year I’ll come,” the smith implied, “I just forgot that it was so early in the semester, and with the Vytal Tournament coming up, I’ve been dealing with a lot of repairs. And Adam.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully, mind still back in the forges where her blacksmiths were repairing a broadsword, and where Adam’s chokūto was waiting for her attention.

“I certainly hope so.”

A pause.

“You’re not still experimenting with Dust in alloys, are you, Miranda?” She could not hear him, nor did signing make any sound, but she could _feel_ the stern tone that he used as concern etched lines on his face and his eyes narrowed. Miranda held her hands up in mock surrender before defending herself and her logic.

“Of course I am, just not as dangerous anymore.” She knocked a fist against her metal thigh to punctuate the point she was attempting to make. “I learned my lesson.”

Her father sighed and shook his head before pulling her into a hug. Miranda knew his habits; he would apologize for not being there when she needed him most, or for all of the mistakes he’d made in his past life that had lead to being forced to all but abandon her. She would remind him that it was the way things were supposed to happen, and he would just agree to disagree.

She still didn’t understand parents and their strange need to apologize for matters that were perpetually out of their control. Perhaps one day, she would learn for herself…

  


Miranda had insisted that they meet along the outskirts of Saiyo, in the forest that lined the southeastern borders of the small kingdom. In late autumn, the Ashen Wood was bathed in every shade of red, orange, and yellow imaginable. Leaves fell slowly and constantly from the great ash trees, like the way snow falls in winter. The peace of Saiyo kept the Grimm at bay, and the Ashen Wood was close enough to the city that they would not be a problem.

Adam found her not a hundred yards down the main path, perched on a fallen log with her back to him and a long black box on her lap. He assumed that she was meditating. Calling her name would do no good, and he didn’t want to test her wrath by throwing twigs or pebbles at her, so he simply rounded the log and stood before her. Miranda looked up at him and lowered the deep blue hood she wore before standing up, box still in her arms.

“Have you named it yet?” She asked, referring to the weapon tucked away in the box.

The Faunus boy looked hesitant to answer. “There’s a couple ideas I like. But I don’t know which one will fit until I see it.”

“Good,” Miranda said as she took the lid off the box.

Almost shyly, Adam reached out and unfolded the tissue paper that the newborn weapon was wrapped so delicately in. It was almost as if Miranda was, in fact, cradling as infant.

“I have built countlesss weaponss in my time,” Miranda watched his hands, then his face as it shifted from anxious to curious to full of awe. “Yourss wass one of my favouritess.”

Adam marveled at the perfectly flawless, immaculate scabbard she had crafted. Even the rose she had stamped on the barrel was perfectly done. Every line had meaning, every groove and notch a purpose. When he pulled the chokūto from it, the sweet sound echoed like the hum of vibrating crystals, haunting and powerful. He could _feel_ his aura bleeding into the _tsuka_ and blade, and even the scabbard.

_Miranda bit her lower lip...she was blushing madly..._

_...head shot up and blushed like mad…_

The blade itself was as red as the leaves around them, as if the craftsman had dipped it in blood before sheathing it for delivery. Adam spun it in his hand like he’d been taught, and it cut through the air, sharp as a razor and quick as a breath. He could hear it slice through the air, felt it as if it was simply an extension of his arm. He was sure that his aura had reached out and wrapped itself around the _tsuka_ , tying it to him.

_“My great-grandfather made it for her as a wedding gift. She fought with it until the very end.” “What was it called?”_

Of course he’d _heard_ of the marvels of the work of the Olivete Company, but to be there, holding what the weaponsmith herself considered a favourite, Adam felt truly honoured.

“It’s beautiful, Miranda,” he breathed, entirely captivated by the weapon. “I have no idea how to thank you.”

She shook her head and set the empty box aside. ”Don’t. Usse it well, defend our people. That iss thankss enough. What are you going to name it?”

Adam looked between her and the blade, then at the rose on the scabbard.

“Wilt and Blush.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miranda is very near and dear to my heart and will show up in more Tales.


End file.
